He's A Good Boy
by Leonora Chris
Summary: Short story about Tony and his childhood or the lack of it. At the end there's short Tony and Gibbs moment. The story is intro to the story "Ghost Games".


_**(I don't own NCIS or the characters etc from it, only the story is mine.)**_

**Very short, short story... Just trying out some different stuff now and then... I'm not too good at writing short stories, never have been. So this is good practice... Writing short stories that is...**

**Too silly? Stupid? Something? Should I write more? Maybe about the Tony and Gibbs meeting each other part?**

**THE GUEST REVIEWS: As I can't answer to those with only one chapter in the story... Thank you! Love you!**

_**Leo**_

* * *

Anthony DiNozzo junior was a good boy.

He kept his room clean and tidy. Didn't speak unless he was told to speak. Didn't make his clothes dirty or he knew he would upset his mother, who had chosen his clothes with love. Even if she didn't always show it.

He made sure to eat everything he was given to eat, even if he didn't like the food or even if he was feeling sick... And he didn't get sick often. When he did, he made sure mother and father didn't have to be bothered by it.

He did have few toys given to him by a relative, but he never played with them. Instead he spent his days studying under the watchful eyes of his many teachers at home.

He never made any sound when he moved around the big house. He was like a little ghost. He never let any guests see him because it pleased his parents. Unless you saw him, you didn't know he was there. And Tony, like his mother sometimes called him, he was good at being invisible. Even better when he was too small for his age.

He never asked for anything and only did what he was told to do. He didn't question it when his parents breaths smelled bad or why her mother was walking funny and giggling when she came to give him a good night kiss. He cherished those moments. He liked it when his mother was acting funny, because then she would shower him with such affection which she normally wouldn't do.

And then his mother became sick. So sick that one day she had been laying on her bed for weeks. When she finally decided to get up from the bed, she stepped on the toy car which Tony had brought with him in the room. Wanting to show it to her.

Hitting her already sick head, she never stood up again. Didn't matter how much Tony kept calling for her. She would only stare at him with those scary looking eyes and feel so cold against his little hands.

Sitting down, he would keep on brushing his fingers through her beautiful hair. He had always loved looking at his mother. He hadn't seen many other people in his life, but he was sure she had to be the most beautiful thing on earth. And when she smiled, she looked even prettier. She didn't smile often.

He was still sitting next to his cold mother when his father came home.

"Junior."

Tony knew he was a bad little boy. He knew it when he saw his fathers eyes. They were even scarier than mother's.

"What the h*ll have you done..?" The big booming voice spoke and Tony shivered.

He had always hoped his father would notice him and talk to him, but now he wasn't sure he wanted it anymore. He was scared, but he didn't know why.

Tony didn't make any sound when big hand came and grabbed handful of his hair. He was shoved against his mother and kept there.

"Look at her! See what you did!? You _killed_ her! You killed my wife!"

Tony blinked, confused. He didn't understand. What was father talking about?

"She's _dead_!"

Tony wasn't sure what being dead meant, but he knew it was something bad.

He was eight years old when he saw his mother's face for the last time and when his father raised his hand against him for the first time.

As little Tony grew and became little bit bigger, he started understanding things better. At the age of ten he finally understood what being dead and killed meant. And so he finally stopped waiting for his mother to come back home.

His mother had sometimes told him how he had never cried, not even in birth. She seemed so proud of it and his father told her it was because he was DiNozzo and DiNozzo's don't cry.

Tony was ten years old when he cried for the first time and he felt like he was letting his mother down because of it.

By the time he was twelve, father had tried 'forgetting' him everywhere. Taking Tony to some business trip with him, only to 'forget' him in hotels or some dark streets in a strange country. Or any other convenient place and moment.

Now Tony was old enough to start feeling anger and to not let the beating break his spirit. How he had survived this long, he wouldn't know.

They stood there, face to face, on that day. Like two battle ships ready for the big battle.

"I'm leaving." Tony finally spoke. He didn't bother wiping off the blood on his lips and chin. His back felt like it was on fire. It hurt that much. But he kept his head up and back straight.

He had learned early on that father had pleasure seeing him in pain. Some twisted way of passing time. That's what it had become.

He sometimes wondered if that's how all parents were treating their children. If that's what being a good parent was all about. If that was the case, he would rather not become one at all.

His father only sneered at him and hit him one last time.

"I have no son."

That was it. He didn't see his father again. Maybe he should have felt bad hearing those words, but instead he felt free.

Tony was twelve years old when he started new life. A relative, one of the few looking out for him, helped him the best he could. Made sure he didn't end up on the streets and had food to eat and clothes to wear. Kept the social workers away until he was old enough to take care of himself.

Somehow he made it through his teenage years and schools. Somehow he made it through new kinds of heart breaks that life decided to throw on his way. Somehow he made it through different works and relationships.

He was, way over, twenty years old detective and no longer a boy, when he met his new boss. The man was like some angry beast. Growling and threatening him with all kinds of things. It went on for days straight and for some reason he had been chosen to be the one working with him.

He wasn't afraid. He simply smiled. And the strangest thing happened. The man frowned and then smiled back at him.

"How good are you writing letters, DiNozzo?"

"Um... Pretty good I think... Why?"

"Good. Then it shouldn't take too long for you to write a resignation letter."

"Gibbs?"

"If you're fast enough, I'll give you a ride to D.C. I mean, your car did get totaled pretty bad, right?"

"Right... But Gibbs. I really am not sure what you are trying to tell me. So help me out a little?"

"DiNozzo... I'm offering you a job. So are you going to write that letter or not?"

Tony was silent for a while. If he would say no, he would keep on living his life the way he had. Hiding in the shadows. Playing his ghost games just like always. Gibbs however had seen past his act. If he would say yes, he could not keep hiding anymore. Gibbs wouldn't allow it.

"Yes..."

The old man smiled and there was strange look on his face as he put his hand against the back of his head. In a gentle manner and for the first time since his childhood, Tony didn't flinch at such sudden touch.

"Good boy."

_The End._


End file.
